


Existing in Two Places

by foxanddanapetrie



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s04e13 Never Again, Episode: s04e14 Memento Mori, F/M, MSR, Never again, One Shot, The Unremarkable House (X-Files), mulder and scully romance, txf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:06:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxanddanapetrie/pseuds/foxanddanapetrie
Summary: What if Scully started her journal to Mulder right when she found out she had cancer - before Memento Mori?
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Thank you to @absolutetosh for the prompt - “I exist in two places. Here and where you are.” AND for being literally the best hype woman in the entire world. This one’s ANGSTY. The last line is from Memento Mori so it’s not mine.

Her life had a whole new meaning now. Recently, most of her days were spent pushing the thought of mortality from her mind. She thought a vacation from Mulder would be good. How could she break this news to him when she’s not entirely sure she knows what it means herself. _I’ll wait to tell him until I know the details._ She knows the stories of the other women - Betsy Hagopian, Penny Northern. They told her what happened to them as if they knew her her whole life - this new life that she was apparently destined for. This break from Mulder was supposed to help her focus but it turned out to be the opposite.

As she closes the door to her hotel room on the third floor, she takes off jacket and her blazer and lays them across the brown and green plaid chair. I’ll hang them up later. She stands in front of the mirror and lifts up her cotton undershirt so that it rests to just under her breasts. 

She held it up and turned around to see the gauze taped onto her lower back. She ran her fingers over it to test the sensitivity then let her shirt fall back into place as she sat on the bed. She laid there for what felt like hours, listening to the clock tick her precious time away. The ceiling of the hotel room has a lot more detail than one would think. There’s a water stain in the corner near the bathroom. There’s a spider web hanging from the window to the curtain. She rolls over on her side and reaches to grab the journal that’s sitting on her nightstand. 

_February 2, 1997_

_Mulder, I’m sitting here in my hotel room wondering why I even left D.C. for this case. I think I probably did it to spite you and I’m sorry but my mind has been so clouded lately. I think I wanted to show you that I can have a life too. I never thought I would ever say this to you but it turns out I don’t have a life without you. I’m snowed in and there’s really no place for me to go right now so I’m left with my thoughts._

She lays down the pen next to her on the bed where she sits cross legged. As dusk settles on the quiet street in Philadelphia, she makes her way to the window to open the curtains so she can watch the snow fall. The snow that seemed so pure to her even just a few months ago now reminds her of the never ending passing of time. 

It reminds her that she’s getting closer and closer to the moment when she’ll have to tell Mulder about her newly discovered cancer. She walks back to the bed and climbs in under the covers this time. She turns on the ugly outdated hotel room lamp and re-opens her journal. The leather bound notebook given to her one Christmas had seen so much yet holds so little. It’s been in her suitcases, her dresser drawers, her many motel rooms but she could never think of what to write in it - until spoken words failed her.

_I don’t know why I’m writing this to you. I’ve never felt the need to keep a journal but recently my mind has been a mixture of thoughts firing so fast that I can’t make sense of them. Sometimes, I hope you’ll never read it but I also wonder if you’ll read it if I’m gone. When I’m gone? I don’t know. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you when I first found out but I need to tell you now. Part of me has kept it bottled up for so long because I didn’t want you to worry. But I want to tell you now because I need you to worry for me so that I can take a break from it._

She pauses and puts the end of the pen between her parted lips. This is the last thing Scully has ever wanted to do - admit defeat. In retrospect she felt stupid about bringing up the fact that she doesn’t have a desk. It’s the last thing she should be worrying about. But Mulder’s reaction was quick and unbothered. Surely he knew her on a deeper level than that. 

On the outside she likes to think he’d be lost without her but really she knows it’s her who’d be lost without him. Without this soul who completes her own - two people that were meant to walk together in this world. He made her whole. She needed him to know this. She hears a plow go by and it interrupts her thoughts.

When she wakes up the next morning the bright sunlight is reflecting off of the snow like a laser beam pointing only at her. Usually she’d have her silk pajamas with her - a piece of comfort from home she could relish in. This time, she woke up in an oversized t shirt and leggings that she had thrown in her suitcase. The new piece of information given to her by her doctors was slowly consuming parts of her she used to think were important but these days seem frivolous - like taking the time to find matching silk pajamas.

_February 3, 1997_

_You’ve probably noticed that I’m not myself lately and for that I’m truly sorry. I’ve been diagnosed with a naso-pharyngeal tumor on the left side of my sinuses. It’s inoperable. I am waiting for my appointment to see the x rays. I want you to be the first to know and I will probably tell you soon._

_I exist in two places. Here and where you are. The me that is here in Philadelphia needs to find herself. She needs time to process everything. The me that’s in D.C. needs you and needs your strength. Please bare with me through this._

She closed the journal that has newly worn edges, places it in her suitcase and packs the rest of her things before she makes her way back to Mulder. _Deep breath. Go back to him._

_February 9, 1997_

_For the first time I feel time like a heartbeat - the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning….._


	2. Existing Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While moving into the Unremarkable House, Mulder stumbles upon Scully’s journal from years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an anonymous prompt from tumblr for a sequel to my Existing in Two Places. "I just read your fic about Scully's diary, what if Mulder actually found the diary and read it after she was cured?"

The hatchback to Mulder’s SUV slammed closed as they carry the last two boxes up the steps of the house. The ground under their feet crinkled with the sound of fallen leaves and pine needles. A farm styled house is something they never imagined. This wasn’t them a few years ago. A house with sun crisped weathered wood on the south side and a white paneled porch set for growing old together. The tiny chimney rested on top of the secluded dormer where the master bedroom peaked through the roof. 

“This is it.” Mulder says as Scully follows him up the stairs with a box too big for her to see over. He steps over the threshold and sets his box down on the nearby chair and turns around to help her.

“This is it.” She repeats, smiling. He takes her hand and leads her into the house as their make their way to the den to start unpacking.

“So what do you think? Should this be my new office? How about I get some case files to plaster on the wall.”

Scully rolls her eyes and doesn’t respond. She’s too busy reading the labels of the boxes that have made their way into the office. 

“Mulder this is kitchen supplies” She laughs as she reads a box in the corner. He doesn’t respond and she notices that he’s opened a box labeled “desk drawers” in Scully’s handwriting. 

“You can leave that one for a while. I got rid of my desk so I don’t have anywhere to put that stuff right now.”

Mulder was never one to listen so he slices through the packing tape and opens it - hoping to find some of his old files that he promised Scully he’d get rid of some day. He opens the dented cardboard box and sees the first thing laying on top - a brown leather bound journal with frayed edges. He had seen it only once before. Laying by her hospital bed years ago when she had cancer. He had spent the entire time he’s known her trying to crack the enigma that is Scully - an ever complicated, reserved, and beautiful mind. 

Back then he picked it up, read a few pages but stopped at the most recent entries. He felt like an intruder on some of the only privacy she had left. They had invaded her career, her life, and now her body. He remembers thinking that she should be allowed to have this journal to herself, something that she could show him in her own time but when he caught his name out of the corner of his eye he couldn’t help but look.

He didn’t pick it up. He just looked down into the box as if it were a black hole.  _ Should I pretend I don’t know what this is?  _ He looked over at Scully who was unboxing the kitchen supplies he knew was in the wrong place. When she wasn’t looking he slipped the journal into his back pocket.

“You’re awfully quiet over there.” Scully said not taking her eyes off the stack of dishes in front of her. “What are you doing, organizing my junk drawer?”

He laughed to himself -  _ As if Scully ever had a junk drawer in her sparkling clean apartment.  _ “Nah just zoned out for a bit. I’ll just pack this back up and grab another box from the living room.”

Scully nodded and smiled. 

After Scully falls asleep on the box spring-less mattress in the middle of the master bedroom surrounded by boxes, Mulder gets out of bed and heads downstairs to the office. Earlier that day they had finished unpacking that room and the wall was newly adorned with the ceremonial “I Want to Believe” poster that followed them everywhere they went. A reminder of what was and what’s to come. He sits at the desk and opens the journal to the first page.

_ January 29, 1997 _

_ Found this notebook under a stack of papers I had scattered in my desk drawer. I think Bill got it for me one Christmas. New years resolution - keep a journal. _

“Well I’ll be damned, she did have a junk drawer.” Mulder mutters to himself. 

Noticing the date above the entry he feels his heart sink. Was she starting this new resolution because she recently found out she had cancer?

The next couple pages were blank as if she wanted to start a new chapter. Or maybe it was a buffer for what was to come? He leans back in his office chair and puts one leg up on the desk and continues reading.

_ February 2, 1997 _

_ Mulder, I’m sitting here in my hotel room wondering why I even left D.C. for this case. I think I probably did it to spite you and I’m sorry but my mind has been so clouded lately. I think I wanted to show you that I can have a life too. I never thought I would ever admit this to you but it turns out I don’t have a life without you. I’m snowed in and there’s really no place for me to go right now so I’m left with my thoughts.  _

The night she got the tattoo. He’s regretted how he treated her that week ever since it happened.  _ It wasn’t about the goddamn desk. She had cancer you idiot. How did you not know something was wrong?  _ These thoughts are often on repeat whenever the subject of her cancer arises. He’s apologized, she’s accepted but he still feels bad. His heart sinks further down into his chest. He lowers his leg off the desk in order for him to move that chair closer to the desk so he can really focus. 

_ I don’t know why I’m writing this to you. I’ve never felt the need to keep a journal but recently my mind has been a mixture of thoughts firing so fast that I can’t make sense of them. Sometimes, I hope you’ll never read this but I also wonder if you’ll read it if I’m gone. When I’m gone? I don’t know. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you when I first found out but I need to tell you now. Part of me has kept it bottled up for so long because I didn’t want you to worry. But I want to tell you now because I need you to worry for me so that I can take a break from it.  _

He feels tears form at the corners of his eyes. He tries to blink them back but fails and one drops on the page next to the handwriting he’s admired for over twelve years. He quickly wipes it away so as not to smudge the ink. The next few pages he reads are a blur. 

_ Diagnosed _

_ Naso-pharyngeal tumor _

_ I want you to be the first to know _

_ I need your strength _

_ Please bare with me _

These are the phrases that stick out to him most. The thought that he left her alone for even one night brings more tears to his eyes. He knows himself - he’s not one to let things go easily. Before he wipes his eyes on his sleeve, he sees the hall light turn on. Padded footsteps of tiny socked feet that are usually music to his ears send adrenaline through his body. They’ve been married for a year, they’ve been by each other’s side for twelve but this still feels like an invasion of privacy. He quickly closes the journal and shuffles the drawers open in an attempt to hide it. He’s too late. Cold hands reach his shoulders and begin to work the knots that never seem to go away. 

“What are you doing?” She whispers.

“Uh not much. Couldn’t sleep.” He knew she could see right through him. He didn’t have time to put the journal away. It lay closed on the empty desk. 

“My journal.” She hums.

“Yeah… I’m… sor-”

“Shhh. It’s ok.” He wonders how he got lucky enough to be able to hear that soft voice for the rest of his life. “I’m surprised it took you that long to read it.”

She turns on the lamp on the desk and he turns his chair around to face her. She grabs the chair leaning against the wall and drags it over so she can sit in front of him. “I’m sorry if it’s too much.” 

“Scully -” 

She leans forward and folds his hands between hers. “I...I um I never was good at expressing my feelings - especially with you and especially at that point in my life.” She says sensing that he’s blaming himself for her loneliness that February night.

“Scully don’t ever apologize to me. I owe you a thousand apologies for not being there that night. I should have been there-”

“Mulder, how could you have known? Look at everything we’ve overcome. We’re here, we’re safe, we’re fairly happy, and that’s something.” She stands up and faces him. Her gentle kisses follow the trail of tears down his cheek before he pulls her closer to him. She stands between his legs, placing her hands behind his head, resting them on the nape of his neck. He rests his head on her stomach holding her close. The moonlight shines in the window and illuminates her long, beautiful hair that’s grown longer since they’ve been married.

“I’m more than fairly happy, Scully.”

“I am too, Mulder.” 

  
  
  
  



End file.
